MY STAR.

MY STAR.

All that I knowOf a certain starIs, it can throw(Like the angled spar)Now a dart of red,Now a dart of blue;Till my friends have saidThey would fain see, too,My star that dartles the red and the blue!Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.What matter to me if their star is a world?Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.

All that I knowOf a certain starIs, it can throw(Like the angled spar)Now a dart of red,Now a dart of blue;Till my friends have saidThey would fain see, too,My star that dartles the red and the blue!Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.What matter to me if their star is a world?Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.

All that I knowOf a certain starIs, it can throw(Like the angled spar)Now a dart of red,Now a dart of blue;Till my friends have saidThey would fain see, too,My star that dartles the red and the blue!Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.What matter to me if their star is a world?Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.

All that I know

Of a certain star

Is, it can throw

(Like the angled spar)

Now a dart of red,

Now a dart of blue;

Till my friends have said

They would fain see, too,

My star that dartles the red and the blue!

Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:

They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.

What matter to me if their star is a world?

Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.

The following sentence, from Walter Besant, in “All Sorts and Conditions of Men,” well expresses the key-thought of this little gem of a poem: “So great is the beauty of human nature, even in its second rate or third rate productions, that love generally follows when one of the two, by confession or unconscious self-betrayal, stands revealed to the other.”

Compare also the closing stanzas of “One Word More,” especially stanza 18.


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